Anyone who's ever done a quick succession of temp agency interviews can tell you it's nothing like doing "regular" job interviews. It's the same thing, over and over: typing tests, stupid Windows 3.1 tutorials on Office 2000 programs, and questions about what kind of job you really want. (What kind of job do I really want? I'm at a temp agency! Do think I have any room for preferences (or dignity?) at this point?)
It's trying to cram your well-designed resume into some squinchy stock application form fastened to some shitty clipboard balanced on your knee as you try to comfortably perch in a freakishly designed modernist chair next to a fake plant potted in real dirt while weird, jangley Musak is piped in through stealthy Bose speakers because, "Yes, honey, I see you have a resume but this is what we use. Next?"
It's basic math tests, like you blew $10.99 on 25 sheets of paper for your at least mildly impressive resume and ran out to Wal*Mart at 2 a.m. to buy pantyhose just so you could work a cash register. It's 693 + 431 with a note beside it saying, "You may use the other side of this paper if you need additional room for calculations."
It's those, "If you caught Sally Mae smoking the reefer in the lavatory while she was on her break, would you tell someone?" questionaires, that make you doubt your answers so fiercely by question #33 that you just want to stand up, stab yourself in the eye with your No. 2 pencil and run straight at the receptionist screaming, "Okay! Fine! One time I got called into work on a Sunday morning and I was at the end of one VERY LONG ACID TRIP and I've also had sex with coworkers despite the very specific No Relationships With Coworkers policy in that manual I had to sign in blood before I got hired and one Tuesday morning I woke up really early to drink a gallon of PuriTea just so I could pass a drug test and I used to steal cigarettes when I worked at that gas station and even though it was only $5.25 for third shift I suppose that's no excuse and fine, yes, okay, you caught me, if I found Sally Mae smoking a fatty in the bathroom at any job THIS place would get me, not only would I not tell on her I'd probably ask her for a hit! Okay?" and then collapse, catatonic, onto the beige industrial carpeting.
It's well-dressed old people with blue hair and uncomfortably fashionable shoes saying, "Golly gee! You sure did ace that test on Macrosoft PrePoint! And you type 87 wpm with excellent accuracy! Let's see... we have some work at a warehouse over in Traveler's Rest. I know it's a 45-minute drive and only $7.50 an hour, but are you interested? If you could drive a forklift, I might be able to get you something at $9.00 an hour."
It's two forms of ID, fill out this I-9, sign all of our stupid rules and spend 30 minutes of your life watching this orientation video which contains absolutely nothing you don't already know except the name of our president because we spent $8,000 on it and someone should watch it even though we may never find you a job.
It's, "Please call us every day/every Monday/every two weeks/once on the solstice and twice on Sunday to let us know you're available," to the point where you've got a list next to your phone of names, numbers, and when to call to find out if that great CSR position is available yet.
It's waiting, waiting, waiting and realizing you're not all that interesting or fantastic anymore because the next wave of employees can all type 87 wpm too, thanks to AOL chat rooms, and are better at creating PowerPoint presentations than you now, thanks to science fair projects, and you're only twenty-five years old.
And then you start to get really jealous of all those smarmy blue-haired women with Achilles tendons so tight they can't even walk without high-heels on anymore thanks to forty years of jobs just like the one you're trying to get because at least they have a job, you unemployed piece of shit.
So.
I have a temp interview at 1:30. Wish me luck.
The brilliance of that rant should count for something. Maybe you can attach it to that resume they never even bother to look at.
Posted by: jules at August 13, 2003 05:34 PMI agree with jules, that was awesome.
And now I'm going to do something that really irritates me when someone else does it, which is ask a stupid question, as if I hadn't noticed the entire rest of the post: They really have drug-test-cleaning tea?
Oh, and it's too late, but good luck. For next time. Not that there will be a next time... You know what I mean.
Posted by: rob at August 13, 2003 09:49 PMRob, yep. I'm pretty sure this is the stuff, although I remember it being in a reddish colored box. I don't think it's marketed strictly as such, but I remember the directions saying you had to drink a gallon of it in a three hour time period that ended as close to 60 minutes as possible before you were being tested, although not in those exact words. I think I bought it at GNC, although they don't carry it on their website now.
Posted by: Shannon at August 13, 2003 09:57 PMWent through the same stuff, and yes, it's all true. At least I was able to convince some folks that my geekiness was better used administering the computers rather than just typing memos on them.
Posted by: Mark Gardner at August 14, 2003 03:09 PMYikes!
This is topical.
My Fiance has worked as a medical typist on a temp basis for the last 9 years. Two weeks ago she got offered a "real" job. Executive management type position where she could do a lot of good for a bunch of people typing away on a temp basis. 55K and all the benefits. Yay!
All of her reviews and performance specs came back glowing with perfection, the other staff loved working with her and the staff she was in charge of thought she was the messiah (mostly because the first thing she did was sort out payroll issues that sometimes saw them not get paid for 5 weeks at a time). Last Thursday she had her 2 week review with the company owner, the feedback was totally positive. Friday morinign she was called into the same owners office and told that the owner had changed her mind about how the company needed to be structured and that the job had ceased to exist, thank you very much and please clear your desk.
To add insult to injury, she got told that in a few weeks she "might" get a phone call asking her to start typing for the company on a temp basis along with the crew she had (five minutes ago) managed.
So I spent a solid weekend putting together a human being from the shattered pieces that got home on Friday, and this morning she is off on an agency temp job that lasts two days....
And people ask me why insist on working for myself instead of getting a job with "stability".
Sasha
Went through that hell as well, so I understand your plight. Well, I have never had to drink tea - but I understand the absurdity of the questions they ask: "Would you push your boss from the top of the building for no reason at all? For a good enough reason?"
Oh, that we were able to market our abilities!
Most real jobs are four letter words. Work is four letters, but then so are blog, XBox, and cold hard cash. Maybe not all of them are that bad. 'Cept maybe "Anne." That one's always iffy.
Posted by: Big John at August 19, 2003 12:23 AMHEY!! Work is a four letter word when you have one.
It's also a four letter as in "need" in some people's cases. Such as having to excuse yourself from the dinner table with your family sitting there to run around the corner to the library to check your email for jobs. Can't search from home or even sit with the laptop on the couch anymore cause you had to sell it to pay for you baby's 1st birthday party last week.
Jobs are four letters words for me too. Such as: food, heat, love, and baby.
Posted by: Ken at August 19, 2003 02:54 PMdid you get the job?
Posted by: dry fly at August 22, 2003 11:31 PMTHAT was an awesomely written piece. I loved it. It is ironic how the temp agencies and other employers do the drug screening bit, in light of the fact that both publicly held companies I worked for, both with annual revenues close to $1 billion per year, had upper management with, in my informal observation, close to 50% illegal drug use. Yes, our mighty corporations are ran by people stoned on pot and coke and the worst drug of all, alcohol. What a bunch of crap, the big boys do it, but they want the commoners stuck with alcohol and paxil.
I have a M.B.A., am 46, used to earn over 100k per year. Today I interviewed for a clerk job at Target. I hope I get to wear a red shirt like the others. The interview questions were some of the lamest I ever heard.
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I'm not entirely certain that luck, at least in this endevour, is what needs wishing.
Perhaps what needs to be wished is that people like us would no longer have to suffer through a temp interview to get a CSR job in which we can't even goof off on the internet during the slow times.
Perhaps what should be wished is that some rich fat bastard dies choking on the foulest of penii each time a halfway decent human being with a dream is force to sell a piece of her soul just to fucking eat.
Or, I'll just wish you luck. Whatever works better for you.
Posted by: V. at August 13, 2003 04:55 PM